“I know. And I’m sorry.” After a beat. “I’ll bet it’s rough. On you and your new person.”
“My person?”
“Your partner. Husband or wife or whoever you’re starting a family with.”
“I’m doing it alone.” I shake my head, hating how defeated I suddenly feel. “Whatever. That’s over now. I’m done.” I give him a brittle smile. “I can’t afford another round.” Aside from his eyebrows going up, there’s no reaction. It makes no sense for me to get as defensive as I do. “What? You got a problem with single mothers? IVF?”
“Not at all.”
“You sure? You seem awfully?—”
“You want a baby?”
“More than anything,” I admit, though I don’t exactly know why I’m dumping this on the guy.
“I’ll do it.”
Everything freezes. Me. The air around us. My lungs, my heart, the blood in my veins.
I’ve heard wrong. I’ve misunderstood.
I’m suspended, numb with shock. Dropped off a building. In free fall.
“Um. Do what?”
“I’ll get you pregnant.” He’s dead serious.
My mouth drops open. I close it, open it again as I attempt to formulate some sort of reply. It takes an effort to get my voice working again. “Are you… Are youkidding?”
He shoves back his stool and stands, takes a couple steps away from the bar. For the first time since I saw this man, he seems something other than steady and sure and firmly planted on the ground. “It’s the bourbon talking. Sorry about that. I…I’ll take off. Goodnight Kitty.” He spins and stalks away.
He’s twisted the lock and wrenched the front door open, stepped outside and turned to close it behind him by the time I shake myself free from the shock and get a word out. “Wait!”
He pauses, his hand the only thing keeping the door ajar. Even through the sheet glass of my front window, it’s obvious the man’s tense.
So am I. I mean, what the hell just happened?
But also—and this is the unexpected part—holy crap, why on earth am I turned on?
My body, which was certainly interested in Jake Brand before he dropped his bomb, is now a live wire. Buzzing, tight, swollen.Ready.I’ll bet if I shoved my hand down my underwear, I’d find that I’m soaking wet right now.
Slowly, as if I’m not a massive ball of humming nerves, I walk across the dining room, to the door, still wedged open a few degrees by his hand.
“What, um…” No. No, I need to think before I speak. And look him in the eye, not talk through the relative safety of a four-inch gap. I push until I can see his entire face. “Why would you say that? Why…why would you make that kind of offer?” Ishut my eyes, grimacing with the unexpected pain of a sudden realization. “Was it a joke?”
“Hell, no.”
“Then…” I swallow, force myself to look at him head-on, and say, “Please explain.”
He makes a sound of frustration, rubs his hand through his short, almost black hair, and looks around at the dark parking lot, out at the quiet street, maybe searching for an appropriate response to a truly inexplicable situation. Or maybe just searching for a way out of this very weird conversation.
Finally, I guess he lands on something because he turns to me and says, “I’ve wanted you since the moment I laid eyes on you, Kitty.” He looks me up and down in a way I feel to my core.
I’m about to reply when his next words flay me wide open.
“Since the second I saw you, I knew I’d do anything to wipe that sadness from your eyes.”
5
